Practically Perfect
by haleybob
Summary: Ever wonder how Mary Poppins came to be? What made her Practically Perfect? How DID she meet Bert? A story of how it all began and how Mary Poppins became Practically Perfect.
1. Chapter 1

**Hello one and all! Haleybob here. I've had this story idea for quite awhile, and I think it'd be fun to write for you Mary Poppins' fans! It's pretty interesting, and I hope you like it! ...Mind you, this school I've created doesn't actually exist and I don't live in England so if anything is wrong, do overlook it. I'm just writing a fun story. **

**DISCLAIMER: I don't own Mary Poppins or the actors/actresses, but I DO own the idea for this story. **

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Part One:

It was raining in London, again. The morning light made no difference to the dreary drizzle that came down and everything was soon wet and dark. A carriage rode past the misty streets, clattering against wet cobblestone roads. Inside, a young face could be seen sulking at the window. The blue eyes seemed to take in the rain outside, turning them dark and sad. A sigh leaked out from the girl's downcast figure.

"Mary, come away from the window." A stern voice instructed. "Sit up properly."

Mary Poppins, for it was she, unwillingly turned around in her seat to face the one who spoke. Mrs. Poppins, a tall stern woman with a grim mouth, frowned disapprovingly at her daughter. Recognizing the look, the girl quickly sat up as straight as she could and fixed her face to become a politely neutral gaze, folding her hands primly on her lap. The frown faded.

"Much better," her mother said, "now you look like a proper young lady."

Mary blinked, not trusting to say a word. Truly, if she was honest to herself, she couldn't care less of what she looked like. It was always a chore for her to be 'proper'. But her parents expected it from her. Mary would work hard if only to please her parents. There was no room for Mary to please herself. That wasn't proper.

Mrs. Poppins looked almost sentimentally at her only daughter before taking out her bag and setting it on her lap, digging inside its contents. Her daughter watched her silently.

Mary knew that her mother was the most proper British woman in all of Britain. Her gloves were always clean, her dress always smooth and starched. Her mother never forgot her black umbrella on rainy days, and she always knew what to say when people greeted her. She never laughed obnoxiously and only would cough very softly in her hand embroidered handkerchief. She never sneezed in front of guests and always served tea at the exact same time.

"Now, Mary," her mother started, bringing out papers. "You must turn these in to Mistress Hemmington when we arrive. She'll know what to do with you."

Mrs. Poppins handed the papers to Mary, who took them as unwillingly as she had turned away from her perch at the carriage window. She looked over the portfolio and the neat hand writing of her mother with indifference. It stated her name, Mary Poppins, and her age, sixteen and a half, along with her birth date up near the top. The rest was a fill out of her past grades and accomplishments, which, sadly weren't many. She looked back up at her mother with undisguised frustration.

"Mary," her mother said warningly, reading her expression well, "it is your father and my wish that you go to this school. You will be able to learn much more than what we can teach you ourselves. Now don't look at me that way, you are going. Not every girl gets accepted into this program so we are very lucky you got accepted at all!"

Mary glared out the window, refusing to meet her mother's gaze. No matter what they told her, it always felt as if they were getting rid of her. But she didn't dare say this to either her mother or her father. Her father would be too busy, anyways. Mary barely saw her father. He was always working, always worrying of his position. Now, with her parents carting her off to some unknown school, she would know neither of them.

"Besides," Mrs. Poppins continued, unaware of Mary's thoughts, "with this opportunity, you will be able to gain a respectable living. If you graduate, you will be at the best spot to make your life."

The carriage started to slow and the rain continued to pour.

"You will be able to make a good life, Mary," her mother said seriously. "So please do your best."

Mary met her eyes and was surprised to find that her mother's were shining. Her mother never cried. She started to speak, but the carriage stopped and the door was opened. Jeffery, their coach driver, held open the door and peered inside, waiting with a black umbrella in hand. Mrs. Poppins regained her composure and dug inside her bag once more. She pulled out a pair of silken white gloves and looking at them for a moment, placed them in Mary's hands.

"These are for you," she said while Mary stared, "Take care of them. Your father and I will send your pocket money weekly for you."

"Mother…" Mary started to speak but Mrs. Poppins waved her out.

"Go on!" the woman said, "you're letting in the rain."

Mary swallowed back her own tears and stepped out of the carriage, taking Jeffery's hand to help her down the little stairs. The servant shut the door and handed the umbrella to Mary, with a kind smile. She watched as he unloaded her bags to the sidewalk and looked behind her at the boarding school she would be staying at.

The first she saw before her were the gates. They were large and made of a greened copper, with spikes along the top. Golden handles shone dully with wet and a chain with an iron bell stood at the top. The building beyond the gates was tall as a church house, with a single stained glass window at its peak. Dark slate roofs slanted down, water trickling from its edges. The whole building seemed to be the same structure as a church and the capital's bank put together. All was made with white and grey stone, the tall windows unlighted and cold.

While she stared, Jeffery had finished unloaded her baggage and came up to the gate to ring the bell two times. He tipped his dripping hat at Mary, and hopped aboard her family's carriage nimbly. Mary's mother could be seen at the window, and to Mary's shock, she was dabbing at her eyes with her handkerchief. With a command from Jeffery, the horses started off. Mary took a step back out of the way, clutching her mother's last gift to her. She did not wave, but stared as her old life clattered away in the black carriage. The mist soon overtook the streets and then her mother was gone.

"Miss…?" a voice from behind her made her gasp and turn around.

Someone was behind the gates, waiting patiently. Mary blushed and came forward, realizing she had stood in the rain like a fool watching her mother in front of someone. The aged man behind the gates appeared to be the gatekeeper, for he had a raincoat and his own umbrella. She could not see his full face behind his scarf he wore around his neck.

"I'm Mary Poppins," Mary introduced herself, peering in the gates. "I'm the new student starting today."

"So you are, so you are," the man said and with a jangle of hidden keys, the gate was opened. "Welcome, Miss Poppins."

"Thank you," she said nervously.

She watched him hobble over to her bulky bags and with difficulty, picked up two in each hand. They both looked at the large fifth bag remaining on the ground, then at each other. Mary blushed and rigidly snapped her umbrella shut, tucking it under her arm. The gatekeeper watched with no remarks. With both hands, the girl seized the thick handle and dragged the bag over to the man's side. He smiled sheepishly at her and she returned the timid smile, feeling a little better that he didn't remark on her improper manners.

"The name's Ferdinand." The old man wheezed as they trudged inside the gates. "But everyone here just calls me 'Pappy'. So you can, too."

She gave a little smile at this which he returned again encouragingly. He kicked the gates closed with his foot, grunting as the gates clanged shut loudly. The way from the gates to the school was a short distance, but Mary felt it was much longer. She didn't realize how heavy her bags really were and soon felt sorry for Pappy as he panted alongside of her. She wasn't able to pick her own bag fully off the ground, but had to drag it across the lumpy cobbled walkway. It got stuck sometimes and she would have to stop and free it. Pappy took this time to rest and catch his breath.

Neither of them said anything more, but he often smiled at her over his thick scarf if she got the chance to look at him. It made her feel much better, as most of the adults in her life never smiled at her genuinely. They were both fully soaked from the rain as they came up to the door. Pappy sighed with relief as he set down his burdens and Mary could only join in that sigh, feeling a little silly that she was so tired after hauling only one. The gatekeeper then knocked at the large wooden door and bowed to Mary.  
"Good luck, Miss Poppins," he said, and he returned to his post.

"Thank you…Pappy." Mary said, with a small grin.  
She turned her attention back to the door and unfolded her umbrella once more. Not soon after, it opened.

"Miss Mary Poppins, is it?" A large woman asked, peering out of the door.

Mary stiffened, then nodded, surprised that they already knew her. The woman nodded back, and opened the door wider, allowing the girl in.

"Step inside, now," the woman said, "Don't let the rain in."

Mary hurried through and other servants went out to collect her bags. The large woman supervised, motioning for Mary to stand off to the side, which she obeyed meekly. She had a chance now to look over this new person. The woman was indeed a larger woman than either Mary or her mother, with round cheeks and small, beady eyes. A black dress with a starched white collar and cuffs let her know this was merely a servant, another helper in the school. A tight black bun and a crisp little maid's bonnet perched on the round head.

"Don't stare, Miss Poppins," she suddenly said, whisking Mary back into reality. She looked her over. "Good heavens, why are you all wet? You had your umbrella!"

The maid tutted over the state of Mary's clothes and hair, pulling at each despairingly. The girl tried to explain while trying to keep the maid's hands off her.

"No, I had to help Pappy...um…Mr. Ferdinand." Mary said, swatting away a hand that pulled at her sleeve. "He couldn't get my last bag so I decided to help…"

Steps from behind the two made them turn. The maid immediately ducked into a curtsey. Mary turned around to see a new person approaching, but she was nothing like the round maid, or like the old gatekeeper. If anything, Mary could only understand that she was like her mother, but only so much more.

A tall woman in a strict black dress approached, but her face was not completely strict like Mary's mother. The woman had long stern features, with a Roman nose and dark eyes. Everything about her was in order, and in practically perfect order at that. Her dark hair, her hands neatly held, her head proudly held tall.

"Miss Poppins, is it true you did the work of a servant?"

The voice rang clear and commanding. If the girl was a soldier in the British army, she would have stood at attention. Instead, she bent her knees in a clumsy curtsey to avoid meeting this powerful woman's eyes.

"Yes, ma'am," she replied, "I had to help Pappy…"

"That is not your job," the woman interrupted.

Mary looked up in confusion.

"Ma'am?" she asked uncertainly.

The woman pointed elegantly towards the closed door, and if she could have pointed through the building, to the gatekeeper's post.

"It is Mr. Ferdinand's job to carry your bags." She said firmly, "Ladies do not carry their own bags, if there are servants to do that for them. Refrain from making that a habit."

Mary could only stare and nod obediently, not sure what to say next. The dark eyes seemed to peer into her very being, matching her up to what Mary was really supposed to be. It felt that all of her faults were being laid out by this woman. Mary didn't like it. Finally the woman's eyes released her and she turned to the maid, who was at attention, listening to anything she had to say.

"Do you have her papers?" she asked the maid.

Mary spoke up.

"Please, ma'am, I… my mother, she gave me the papers." She got them out of her side pocket of her dress, cleverly sewn in by herself. "She told me to give them to Mistress Hemmington."

The woman came forward and took the papers, surprising Mary into silence again. The lady looked them over as scrutinizing as Mary herself until she finally gazed back up.

"I am Mistress Hemmington," said Mistress Hemmington with the first smile Mary had seen. "Welcome to my school, Miss Poppins."

Mary curtsied again, still unsure of what to say. Thankfully, it seemed that Mistress Hemmington was done, for she turned and ordered the maid (who still stood attentively) to take her to her room. Then, she walked down another hallway. The maid turned back to Mary.

"Come along, then," said the maid gruffly and started off.

Now with no one speaking to her, Mary could look about her new home. She found that it wasn't the same as her quaint little home in London at all. There were no white walls with cream trimming, or fancy display cases filled with glass animals. There didn't seem to be any decorations she would have had at home, either. No, it was more like a bank or business place made of cold stone and wood. Paintings were hung, but each were so different from each other that Mary could not help but wonder if each student just brought their own from their homes.

Rugs instead of carpeting covered the floor and the doors all were of the heavy wood of the main door. The only thing that comforted Mary was that it was light inside. Instead being dark and oppressing, the tall windows were many and large with light, gauzy curtains. The dull light of the outside seeped into the building and lit it quite well enough. She could also see lamps placed in the corners and wall lights between the doorways. Each door, Mary noticed, had something carved on it, animal or plant. First a lion, then a rose, and once even a spider to her disgust.

They didn't see anyone, and Mary timidly asked the maid where everyone was.

"Their classes, of course." The maid said over her shoulder, looking surprised. "Every day students' take their courses just like any other school, with special classes every other day. You won't be taking any of them today, since you just arrived, but try to learn your way around quickly."

The girl agreed and could only look around in wonder. How was she to remember where anything was? It felt impossible. Twice she felt sure that they passed the entrance hall, but then, everything seemed to look like the entrance hall. She felt so confused. Mary almost wished she was back at home, in her nursery of her childhood, playing with old dolls. But no. She shook her head. She would have to do as her parents said, and do her best here. Perhaps she could prove to them she was a good daughter.

"Here we are," the maid said, opening up a room with a key.

Mary watched as she opened the door for her. The door had a robin etched on it.

"This is your room, Miss Poppins," the maid explained as Mary walked in. "I'll come back and get you when it is lunch time. Good day and for heaven's sake, get dry clothes on."

She curtsied and left, closing the door behind her. Mary could only look around for the bed, where she sat. At first she wondered where her clothes were, but there they sat in the corner of the room she had not noticed before. It was a normal sized bedroom, only for Mary Poppins to live in. It was comfortable.

"This is my home, now," she told herself, taking the pins out of her dark brown hair, letting it all hang down. "So I must get used to it."

She looked around for a mirror, and found one hanging by a window she took delight in. She started to fix her hair, squeezing the water from the rain from it.

"I suppose I shouldn't have done that," she scolded herself, "walking in the rain like that."

While she was squeezing her hair out, she stared at herself, looking at her face. Sad blue eyes reflected back at her around a pretty face. Then, suddenly the eyes grinned and one winked at her. She blinked. She didn't wink just now, did she…? She dropped her hands and stared harder in the mirror, making sure her eyes were the same. The other reflection of her eye winked at her again. Mary gasped and stood away.

What was wrong with the mirror? She didn't wink. She didn't know how to wink! Feeling a little frightened, she peered at her mirror again, but her reflection only mimicked what she was doing at the moment. She sighed. Maybe she just imagined it.

"What is place?" she asked no one.

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**Thank you for reading! What do you think?? Hate it? Love it? Either way, I'll keep writing...any suggestions for improvement are well accepted!**


	2. Chapter 2

**Thank you for all who reviewed or read, it's really encouraging! So here's an update! Hope it pleases.**

**DISCLAIMER: I do not own Mary Poppins or the actors/actresses. **

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Part Two:

Mary avoided the mirror as she changed from her soaking dress to a dry one. She had a mind to take it down and put it away in the drawers she soon discovered afterwards. Finished, she brushed her hair absentmindedly and looked around with curious eyes. Everything seemed to be ready for Mary and her things, for each item she brought out there was a place for it. There was even a tiny compartment in the small side table by the bed for her to place her new white gloves in.

The only thing that seemed lacking was a clock. She didn't carry a pocket watch, and the school was much too far from Big Ben for the giant clockwork chimes to be heard. She would have to wait and depend on the maid to come back. The girl glared at the pins she had removed from her head, not enjoying the thought that they would have to go back. But of course it wasn't proper for a young lady such as her to have her hair all the way down as she once had. Some girls did, but Mrs. Poppins had strictly forbid it for her daughter. No one needed to see her long waves of rich dark brown. It was too vain.

With everything she could possibly think of or remember put away, Mary returned to her seat on the bed. It creaked under her light weight and she cringed at the thought of having to sleep on such a noisy bed. It did not pay well to be a light sleeper. With another sigh, she turned towards the window. Now she had nothing to do but wait.

The rain had not stopped and Mary reflected on the morning, feeling the misery she had suppressed. This school would be no different from home. Except for her parents not being present, Mary doubted her life could ever change even just a little. Everything was planned out for her at home, and so it had begun to be here at the school. She remembered the catalogue about the school with bitterness. It seemed like a different start than her average life, a new setting.

Her father had first said no on the spot when her mother suggested it: he never said yes without saying no first. Mrs. Poppins had to keep at it by leaving the bright little pamphlet on her husband's dresser, his writing desk, and on his plate each morning, never saying a word herself as her husband glared down at it. Mary, of course, had had no say in the discussion. Any school Mary would have chosen wouldn't be right. Nothing she chose could be correct; there was too much she hadn't learned, her parents said.

On the cover of the pamphlet was the school itself, but much more cheerful looking, with poppies in the gardens and the sun shining on the white and grey stone charmingly. Above this picture in cursive golden writing stated "Mistress Hemmington's School for Gifted Girls". It was quite an elegant advertisement. Mrs. Poppins had gotten it from a friend at a tea party. The other lady had said her own daughter was quite proper and wonderful, now. The school was the best thing, just the right thing, for troublesome girls who couldn't be taken care of by a governess anymore. Apparently the 'Gifted' part of the name was really a code for 'Troublesome'.

Mary wished she could have said no. It didn't please her at all that her mother was so captivated by the school, or so ambitious to have her 'troublesome girl' grow up to be accomplished with no help from herself. The girl had depended on her father's pride to make all the decisions to save her. But it seemed that even Mr. Poppins considered Mary to be a 'troublesome girl' and had finally bent that iron will of his to let her apply for the school. It had hurt to leave. It hurt Mary to watch the servants load her things into bags and up on the carriage. Her father hadn't even been home to say goodbye.

"Not that they will write," Mary sighed to herself, letting self-pity wallow over her.

A knock at the door made her conscious of a rare tear that had leaked out of her eye. Quickly she brushed it away and rushed to the door, not wanting to have a bad impression on whoever was knocking. What if it was awful Mistress Hemmington? Mary wouldn't be able to bear that superior stare she had. Even worse, Mary would not be able to handle it if that woman saw that she had been crying. Gritting her teeth, she pulled open the door and peered out, expecting someone important. But to her surprise, it was not the maid or Mistress Hemmington, but another girl her own age.

"Hello there!" the girl said cheerily when Mary said nothing. "It's lunchtime now, and I'm to get you. So here I am!"

The girl spread her hands out and looked so pleased, one would have thought she had won an award. Mary struggled for words but failed. Instead she looked over her messenger with some skepticism.

The smiling face that so pried into the doorway was round but not fat, plain but certainly not ugly. A sprinkling of unfashionable freckles covered the bridge of a small button nose and the mouth was much too wide to be pretty. Fortunately, the teeth inside the big mouth were mostly straight and white as well. A shock of carrot colored hair was plaited on either side of her head in pigtails, giving her a rural, child-like look.

"Thank you…" Mary said finally, not sure whether to curtsey to this girl or not.

The girl beamed again. Mary noticed that the girl's light brown eyes half closed when she smiled. It gave her a sleepy look.

"You're very welcome!" the girl gushed, happy to have thanks, "You're new here, aren't you? Of course you are… you don't have the uniform!"

"Uniform…?" Mary looked appalled.

Her mother never said anything about the uniforms. She looked quickly down at the girl's clothes. Sure enough, the dress was grey and dark blue, crisp and ironed like a uniform. White stockings and plain black shoes tapped the stone floor energetically. A collar with a blue ridge and matching bow clashed with the girl's red pigtails. With a sympathetic smile, the student seemed to notice Mary's discomfort.

"Ooh, don't you go worrying about the uniform," she assured her with a familiar pat on the arm Mary wasn't sure she liked, "Matron and Mistress will forgive you since it's your first day. Your dress is nice enough. You'll get the uniform later."

Mary nodded uncertainly. The girl stepped away from the door, allowing Mary room to get out. Her head spun from the quickness of it all.

"Come on, then!" the girl waved to her, already ahead.

Mary had to almost run to catch up, feeling silly. Her skirts nearly tripped her and once she came to the girl's side, she suddenly groaned aloud. She had forgotten to pin up her hair! As she grasped her locks with a look of disgust her companion smiled her sleepy smile again.

"Don't worry about you hair," she said almost seriously, "we don't have rules about our hair, really."

Mary stared at her, again at a loss of what to say to such a character. Did everyone learn to act this way? If that was so, Mary doubted her mother would enjoy that fact. She decided not to mention anything of it if she ever wrote home. Still, she would have to keep close to this new girl. The school had not lost its confusing twists and turns in the short time Mary was in her room. Again she wondered how on earth she was to manage.

"My name is Janet," the girl said, looking sheepish that she forgot to introduce herself. "Janet Fenton. And you're Mary Poppins, of course. Matron told me."

"Pleasure," Mary said, with a wry grin. "Does everyone know me by now?"  
"Oh, most likely!" Janet seemed eager to share her expanse of knowledge as they walked down another light hallway. "We don't get many new students, so anyone who's accepted is known throughout the dorms! I knew you first since I'm the one who'll be helping you around."

"I see," Mary sighed.

She wasn't quite sure how she felt about Janet. She seemed kind enough, and a good deal willing to help, but Mary could not tell if she wanted any help. She mused silently to herself as Janet prattled away, filling the silence with conversation that was more gabble than actual discussion. However, Mary was grateful for this for it required very little work on her part. All she had to do was nod and agree or disagree at the right times. It gave Mary time to think to herself.

"…and my door is the caterpillar." Janet finished, "And here is the dining room!"

Mary shook herself more alert and looked up…and up at the large door before them. Carvings of two plum trees decorated the heavy wood while two brass handles served to pull them open. This Janet did to Mary's surprise. It didn't seem like someone as thin as her would be able to do such a feat, but pull open the doors she did. Mary looked about almost eagerly, expecting a greater extravagance.

However, it was a normal dining room. The only difference was this room had carpeting, and it was very long. In the dead center was an equally long table with a lace tablecloth. Girls sat on each side of the table and far away at the head sat an older woman. She was neither a maid, nor Mistress Hemmington. To Mary's subconscious relief, she looked kinder than everyone she had met today besides Pappy.

She wasn't pretty, thin lady but more of a stout, motherly woman with a kindly face. Black hair was pulled back into the bun all the elder ladies had in the school and she wore the strict black dress but also with a bright white collar.

Janet nudged her and nodded at the woman before they were noticed.

"That's Matron," Janet said, "She's nice enough, but don't make her mad. This here room is only for the first years."  
Mary looked at her, startled at this new arrangement. Janet gave her a wry grin.

"I'm a second year, so I have to sit with Mistress Kent, the music teacher," the girl said apologetically. "I'll get you after lunch so just wait around for me! Good luck!"

With that and a flounce of her pigtails, Janet turned and scurried out, shutting the great doors behind her. Now facing the room Mary was embarrassed to see that nearly every girl was now staring at her. Also, none of them had their hair down. Mary bit the inside of her cheek, wondering if Janet lied on purpose or if she just forgot. Matron was also looking at her, viewing her dress that certainly wasn't uniform and her hair that wasn't pulled back or pinned up.

"Miss Poppins," she started, her voice pleasantly low, "I trust that you were informed of our dress code."

Mary stiffened as the other students began to giggle but was quick to apologize to Matron, explaining that the girl that was with her mentioned uniforms but her and her mother did not know until now. Matron nodded and looked like she was going to say more. Mary flinched and resisted touching her hair, which now felt like it was bright blue and glowing with all the attention it was getting from the other girls. However Matron just smiled thinly at motioned at an empty seat near the end.

"You may sit there, Miss Poppins," she nodded. "We were just starting prayer. We will eat afterwards."

Mary went to the chair designated to her and sat down gingerly. To her shock and mortification the chair creaked loudly, causing more giggles down the table. Matron glared at her pupils until the laughter died down while Mary's cheeks burned crimson. How typical for her to get the oldest, worst chair to sit in. Thankfully it was soon forgotten. One by one, each girl bent her head and hands were folded under the table. Mary quickly copied them, not wanting to cause anything to draw more attention to herself.

A small 'psst' made her look over to her left, startled. The girl beside her who had made the noise was peeking at her under thick lashes while Matron began giving thanks, giving a little smile Mary wasn't quick to trust. She was a very pretty girl, with lovely blonde hair twisted up elegantly and sloping, refined features with a full and sensitive mouth. The grey eyes under the lashes were complimented rather than stunted by her uniform. Mary took notice of a pink ribbon tied around her wrist, either for vanity's sake or poor memory she couldn't tell. Not sure on how to respond, for she was certain to get in trouble if she spoke now, she smiled back uncertainly.

The girl smiled wider and the eyes darted down, looking at something. Before Mary could understand what she was looking at, a loud bang shot off and suddenly she found herself on the floor, her chair collapsed beneath her! This was too much for the other girls, even during prayers. Each began to giggle and then laugh loudly while Matron rose to her feet, exasperated. Mary could only stare in aghast at the girl beside her from the floor, her mouth open in angry indignation. The girl was laughing with the rest of them, her eyes cold as she looked down at Mary.

"Miss Poppins, what in heaven's name did you do?" Matron said irritably, helping her up and looking disgustedly at the chair, which had not broken but had only fallen on its side.

Mary glared at the blonde girl who smirked and gazed serenely at her nails. Mary had not been in the room for five minutes and already she had an enemy. A tricky one at that, for how could she explain that the blonde girl was responsible for her humiliation? Mary herself did not know what she did! Sullenly she met Matron's angry gaze.

"I don't know, Matron." She said, keeping in her temper.

"You don't know how you fell out of your chair?" Matron asked, clearly unbelieving.

The girls giggled again, hiding their smiles behind their hands and napkins.

"No, Matron," Mary murmured, hating the blonde girl.

"I seem to doubt that, Miss Poppins," Matron said with a frown, "I will not have anyone be a disruption to others during any time of the day, do you understand?"

Mary could have been submissive and just said "Yes, Matron" or "I'm sorry, Matron". She could have said nothing and been able to fume quietly during her meal. She even might've been better if she explained how the blonde girl looked at her chair before she fell over. However, Mary was insulted and furious at the blame being put on her. This made her not think clearly or about consequences. White-faced and quiet she clearly told Matron:

"I'm not a disruption."

The older woman's eyebrows rose, in danger of disappearing into her hairline. All the young ladies had fallen silent, staring at Mary with many shocked eyes. Both women stared at each other, now both pale with emotion.

"I beg your pardon, Miss Poppins?" Matron asked, her low voice dangerously soft.

"I'm not a disruption," Mary stated firmly, her breath quick and labored. "And I don't think you should call someone that when they've done nothing wrong, _Matron_."

A small uproar at the table was created and Mary very soon found herself outside the dining room, being led by the ear by a very angry Matron. Tears formed in the corners of her eyes as the pain of the woman's beefy grip on her delicate ear squeezed mercilessly. She tried not to cry as she stumbled along to keep up to the fast pace of her elder.

"How dare you," Matron said through gritted teeth, "how dare you disrespect me like that! You will be punished for your impertinence, Miss Poppins, see if you don't!"  
Yanking Mary around a corner the woman's eyes flashed in fury. She was very good at ignoring the girl's small whimpers as they strode along. Where they were going, Mary didn't know. In the back of her mind, she was very frightened that she would be kicked out on the very first day. What would her mother say if she turned up on the doorstep?

Matron kept the pace hurried and her grip never relaxed. Mary freely hated upon her, the blonde girl, the school, and even poor Janet. It was their fault that she was in trouble! She didn't even want to be here. She never chose this school, or its rules. She wanted to have a normal life, with parents that paid attention to her and a wonderful school that wasn't filled with awful, hateful girls. Now she would be thrown out and made to go home. Mrs. Poppins would be sure to be very angry, and Mr. Poppins would talk to her even less, now.

"Get in," Matron said curtly, opening up another door flanked by two paintings of Bird-of-Paradise flowers.

Mary was shoved through and only when the door was closed did Matron release her ear. She stumbled away, wiping away a stray tear. It was an office of some kind, with a large oak desk and chair behind it at the back. Shelves of books lined the walls along with pictures of different, stern looking ladies. If Mary looked closer, she would have seen that they were past Mistresses of the school. An unlit fire with an accompanying armchair was the only thing that suggested comfort.

"You will talk to Mistress Hemmington about your behavior," Matron told her, an angry flush on her pale cheeks.

She was writing something down on a paper on the desk, leaning over it heavily. Mary rubbed her ear and sniffed. Matron wasn't moved in compassion, but gave her a very forbidding glance. She motioned for Mary to sit in one of the hard chairs that were in front of the desk. The girl obeyed. The large window behind the desk showed that the rain had not stopped, but had grown worse. It did not cheer her up at all.

"Wait here until she comes," Matron ordered her, "And don't move. Your punishment will be Mistress's choice."

With another etched sentence, the woman set down the pen she was using and left the room, shutting the door behind her. Mary clasped her hands together, quite frightened. She berated herself for her unbearable temper.

"Oh, Mary, couldn't you have kept your mouth shut?" she scolded herself, tearing up again. "Now what will they do with you?"

It would not surprise her at all if she was expelled. And all because of that terrible blonde girl! She wondered what had caused the sudden dislike. Certainly she did nothing of the sort to cause any sudden dislike. She didn't even know what her name was. Hatred and fear filled her to the brim and her faults pounded her shoulders. Nothing she did was right! Little sniffles escaped her even though she tried to stop, and when she thought of what her mother would say Mary couldn't contain her grief and she began to cry loudly.

She made so much noise, she didn't hear the strange scratching noises that came from the fireplace. Ash and soot was falling in little frequencies on the charcoaled wood, making it skitter softly. An exclamation of surprise from inside the flue made Mary jump to her feet, frightened. More soot fell heavily for a moment then stopped though the sounds did not. Filled with a morbid curiosity she approached the fireplace with caution, listening hard to the noises inside.

"Hello…?" she asked uncertainly, feeling slightly foolish as she looked up the flue into the chimney.

A heavy sliding noise and a figure coming down towards her made her jump back, making an exclamation of her own. Whatever was caught inside the flue soon fell to the ground with a yell and ash and soot was thrown into the air, creating a cloud of grey. Coughing, Mary waved a hand in front of her face and tried to peer through the haze with watering eyes. The lump at the bottom was unraveling itself and to her surprise stretched up until it was the figure of a person.

The person also coughed and tried patting themselves down but only succeeding in creating more ashy dust. They were coated in black soot, and even the face was unrecognizable save for the whites of startled eyes. Mary stared for a moment before the person seemed to notice her. Teeth flashed white in the blackened face.

"Good mornin'!" The person said in an uneducated dialect, "Beggin' your pardon, but do you happen to have a clean handkerchief…?"

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	3. Chapter 3

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Part Three:

Mary could only gape at her sudden visitor while they coughed more soot out of their lungs. She didn't quite seem to hear their request nor did she notice that her jaw was hanging open like a dumbstruck cow. It was only when the person mentioned it in a lighthearted way did she close her mouth and blush, embarrassed. The blackened face was young behind the soot, probably no older than Mary herself. A grin, white in the dark face, started to appear as Mary scrambled for what they asked for when they repeated themselves.

"H-here," she said uncertainly, handing out a clean handkerchief. "Who're you?"

The white handkerchief was soon filthy and the face not much the better. But now she could see a kind face of a boy with grey blue eyes. He looked around him for a moment before picking up a cap she had not noticed before off the floor. Slapping it back on his head he turned and tipped it at her.

"Just Bert is fine," he said amiably.

He seemed to have remembered the handkerchief in his other hand for he glanced at it with wide eyes. Grinning sheepishly he gave back the dirtied material, no longer the pristine white it once was. Mary took it only between two fingers. Bert then looked around him at all the soot and ash and made a face. Half the carpet was covered in it.

"No doubt I'll be in wicked trouble for this," he then told Mary. "I should 'ave put the covers down…But hey, there."

His eyes shown with childlike mischief as he gazed at her, his attention diverted.

"You're in here so you must be in trouble, too, if you don't mind me saying."

Mary avoided the topic by not saying anything and took another look up the chimney, then back at Bert.

"What were you doing up there?" she asked him.

The corner of his mouth pulled up into half a smile and he also came by the fireplace. With difficulty, he crawled over the crushed wood and reached up into the chimney. While Mary watched, he removed a chimney sweeper by its long pole with a grunt. Soot flaked off the long, stiff bristles as he stood it up next to him. It was nearly bigger than he was. He then pointed at his chest proudly.

"I'm the chimney sweep," he said, "The only one who dares to go up these kinds of chimneys. They're really dangerous for the other blokes, so I go! Nice an' easy."

Mary looked uncertainly at him. Her mother used to say she must never talk to a young man without her or another adult with her. Indeed, Mary never saw any young men outside times they went for walks in the park where some would be playing cricket.

The only other boys she knew also were the ones in her other school. They were silly, scrawny things who liked to put frogs and spiders in the girls' desks and stick close to their mothers. But Bert…he seemed not like any young man Mary would avoid at all. Despite his sooty, rumpled appearance, she felt him trustworthy. The eyes in the black smudged face were very gentle and glowed with a certain zeal for life she enjoyed seeing.

Another thought pressed her mind.

"But you fell," she put out.

He ducked his head in agreement and looked back up with another of his half smiles.

"So I did!" he said with a warm laugh, "but, I never said I was the best. Just the bravest. And speaking of which, I should get back to the job. This is the worst chimney I've been in!"

Mary suddenly felt a little worried for him. If this was his job, it would be only in a matter of time before he fell off the chimney instead of back in it. She watched him stuff the sweep back up the chimney, and hefting one of his feet on the brick, he started to lift himself back in. She started forward.

"W-won't you stay with me, please?" she squeaked, gripping the mantle.

Bert paused for a moment and to Mary's relief, came back out onto the carpet. He pushed his cap away from his face to view her in surprise. She blushed and looked down, not willing to tell him her fears. That would be much too forward if she told him she was worried about his safety! Why, she only just met him. And young ladies did not speak of their fears to unknown gentlemen. No matter how trustworthy Bert seemed, it would be a long time before Mary got over her mother's strict rules of never sharing her private feelings. Instead, she would relinquish the reasons for her being in the study.

"I am in trouble," she confessed to him. "This is my first day, too."

The trouble was avoided. Bert looked genuinely astonished.

"Is that right?" he asked, his expression curious.

Mary nodded solemnly and told him of the trouble with the school and the awful Matron and blonde girl, who had been the cause of her being there. Bert listened with interest, making small comments, moans of sympathy, and disgusted looks at the appropriate times. He scratched his head when she had finished and whistled low.

"What a day you've 'ad!" he exclaimed, "Why, I don't think too many nice girls like you could get through all that without a word. I would 'ave got kicked out, right straight!"

It was Mary's turn to smile.

"Well, I think any other girl would be able to keep her tongue in her head." She said with some bitterness.

Bert also proved to be perceptive as well as compassionate. His eyes squinted up at her tone and he shook his head firmly.

"I don't think so," he told her, "I think what you did was fine. No other girl would stand up for herself, don't you think?"

Mary stared at him as he looked at her meaningfully. She thought back on what she had done, and about all the other girls in that room. She discovered that not many of them would be able to stand up to Matron. They had fallen silent when Mary spoke against her. She jerked her head up to look at Bert in wonder, who was smiling again. He nodded a little and then brought up a sooty hand to rub his chin, smudging it while he gazed up at the ceiling in thought.

"Come to think of it," he said, mostly to himself. "I don't think I've ever seen you around." His eyes fixed on her face again. "Whatcher name?"

"Mary," Mary said, suddenly shy, "Mary Poppins."

It seemed that they were becoming good friends already and Bert opened his mouth to say so when an outraged screech made them both jump and turn. Mary heard a small 'uh oh' from behind her and as they looked to where the screech came from she understood why Bert said that.

A white faced Mistress Hemmington was standing in the doorway, her face twisted in horror and fury. It was quite a frightening thing for Mary to see, for the calm, stern face she had seen before now was unrecognizable. She retreated to the fireplace. However, it was not at Mary Mistress Hemmington was looking at, but the floor. The two young people had forgotten all the soot and dust that was everywhere, forgetting the mess of it all. Now they looked along with her with equal horror.

The woman pointed an accusing finger at Bert who suddenly set to scrambling for his sweeper.

"Mister Bert!" she bellowed. "What have you done to my study?"

He ducked his head and sputtered quick apologies, looking from the door to the chimney as if not sure which way to escape. The woman soon bore down on him and with a pained yell Bert was caught in the familiar pinch of his ear between two strong fingers. She dragged his head towards the floor, still yelling.

"Look at what you did to my good carpet!" she shouted over his yells of pain, "Ruined! Ruined, Mister Bert, ruined! Do you know how much this will cost to replace?"

Bert didn't seem to be paying attention to the carpet. Instead he yelled over and over: "Ow! Let go, let go! You're goin' to rip it off! Ow!"

She also ignored what he was saying and instead shook his ear harder, increasing his yells. Mary pressed against the wall, eyes wide and mouth open in terror at the scene before her. Distress for Bert and Bert's ear willed her to help, but the dangerous look on the Mistress's face kept her back. It would have been comical, a great boy like Bert being pinned by a smaller, thinner woman, if Mary didn't know either of them. But she did know them, and Bert was her friend. Perhaps the only one who could understand her at least just a little.

She might never see him again if he lost his job here. This filled her with such pain, she couldn't contain herself.

"It was my fault!" she heard herself say, coming forward, "Please, Mistress Hemmington, it was my fault!"

Both the struggling people stopped and stared at Mary. Bert's eyes were large and his mouth hung open in disbelief while the Mistress looked appalled. Mary blushed, but stood firm, feeling very small. A moment of silence passed before finally, Mistress Hemmington spoke in a tightly controlled voice.

"Is that true, Miss Poppins?" she asked almost breathlessly.

"Yes," Mary nodded, warning Bert with her eyes who looked like he was about to argue, "I-I startled him and he fell. I didn't know he was up there, ma'am. It was my fault the carpet's ruined. Please don't punish him."

Mistress Hemmington's lips tightened into a thin line and with a jerking motion, she released Bert. He stumbled off to the side, holding his ear, his eyes still on Mary. Mentally Mary sighed with relief. The Mistress seemed displeased.

"You better not be covering for him, Miss Poppins," she said softly, her eyes aglow with suppressed frustration.

Mary quickly shook her head, making her most innocent face she could. It seemed to work for the Mistress seemed semi-pacified. She was not happy in releasing her foolhardy chimney sweeper, though.

"Well," Hemmington turned back to Bert, who flinched away, "It seems you have avoided trouble, Mister Bert, thanks to Miss Poppins here. It won't happen again, though. Next time, I will personally throw you out the door!"

Here she pointed a finger to the very door she spoke of, silently ordering him out. He slowly collected up the sweeper until the Mistress stamped her foot near his fingers. He jumped, dropped the sweeper, and apologized profusely while picking it back up. Stumbling he bowed as he retreated backwards and with a thankful yet disapproving look at Mary, he hurried from the study. Hemmington glowered at the door before crossing the room and sitting behind her desk with a sigh.

Mary knew that now she was in trouble if she wasn't already for her mouth to Matron. Uneasily she stood in front of the desk, feeling out of place and silly covered in the same soot that coated Bert. The woman was reading the note Matron wrote and for a moment Mary wished she had thrown it away or given it to her new friend, to hide. Now she wrung her hands behind her back as Hemmington placed the note back down and folded her hands over her desk, peering at Mary over her knitted fingers.

"You seem very keen to get into as much trouble as you can, Miss Poppins," she said quietly. "Do you have anything to say?"

"I'll work off the money for your carpet," Mary mumbled, not meeting her eyes. "I am sorry, but I won't take away what I said to Matron."

Mistress Hemmington sighed. She took a slip of paper out of her desk and begun to write.

"Your parents will be informed of your actions," she said while Mary protested, "but I will take up your offer to work it off. You will work in the kitchens with Mistress Manning. You will be on kitchen duty for two weeks and you will not attend any breaks this week for your cheek to Matron. You also will skip joining us for dinner tonight."

Mary nodded, keeping back tears. Mistress Hemmington looked up at her, sympathetic but silent. In a formal way she handed Mary a clean handkerchief, which the girl accepted.

"I trust you will do better, now," she said seriously while Mary blew her nose. "This school does not put up with any shenanigans."

"Yes, Mistress," Mary sniffed, offering back the handkerchief.

The woman refused and the girl tucked it into her pocket instead, thanking her in a wobbly voice. The Mistress nodded, studying her for a moment before returning to her paper.

"You may go, now." She dismissed her.

Quite willingly, the girl complied and quickly left the sooty study. Walking along the halls she remembered vaguely that Janet had asked her to wait for her outside the dining room. She headed for it, wiping at her eyes and taking deep breathes. Her parents would be ashamed, but at least she wasn't expelled. There was still time to make amends and do better. And she would do better, Mary promised herself.

As she passed a window, she noticed that it looked out onto the front lawn. To her surprise, Bert was still around, talking to Pappy through the gate. As if feeling her gaze, he turned his head and searched until he spotted her. With a smile he waved his cap at her, to which she smiled and waved her hand back.

At least she had a friend. Perhaps two, if Janet was as kind as she thought. And an enemy. Mary thought of her unkindly. The blonde girl would pay for the trouble she caused her. But, gazing at Bert made Mary looked back on it thoughtfully. If it wasn't for that girl, she never would have run into him.

"I won't thank her for it, though," Mary said firmly, pushing the blonde girl from her thoughts.

She watched as her friend waved again and disappeared around the corner, the sweeper on his shoulder. She would do her best to make it in this school, no matter what. And for whatever the reason, Mary felt like she could do that. Resolutions in mind she turned and went back to the dining area where Janet was there, waiting for her.

"I'll do my best," she said to herself while Janet chattered all the way back to the rooms. "I promise, I'll do my best."

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	4. Chapter 4

**Whew! SUMMER. Busiest time of the year for me....nearly always gone...indeed going to be gone next week but I might be able to bring my chip to work. Ah well. UPDATED.**

**DISCLAIMER: I am not the owner of Mary Poppins, just this story idea and OCs.**

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Part Four:

The rest of the day pasted for Mary slowly, as she was kept to her room. She listened longingly as many feet hurried past her closed door to dinner. Janet had poked her head in to get her, but once she discovered Mary could not come, she promised to bring something for her. She sighed and turned over on her bed until she was lying flat on her stomach. At least Janet was kind. She talked too much and was a bit of a bumpkin in Mary's eyes, but she was kind. So far there had only been two kind people.

She wondered if her parents were informed of her deeds yet and wondered if her parents would even respond to it. Certainly not her father. He worked long hours at the bank and wouldn't ever be home early enough to hear about anything of his daughter. Mary used to question if he even knew she existed. But when she asked her mother on the rare times they talked confidingly about it, it was denied and Mary would skip supper for her pertness.

She sighed and turned her thoughts like the pages of a book, skipping to better things. Like Bert. She liked Bert very much even though she had only seen him for a short time. She wondered where he lived and if his parents were like hers. Probably not, seeing as he was the chimney sweep. Her mother never took kindly to the chimney sweepers. Too dirty and commonly, she always said with a wrinkle on her nose that told her daughter she was disgusted. But Mary didn't care. Sometimes if one the sweepers were friendly and Mary was about, they would talk with her while as they worked.

She skipped a page in her memory and looked uneasily at the mirror she had had a scene with. Did she really just imagine her reflection winking at her? Mary could never wink, as stated before. She never learned and when she tried, her mother scolded her for not being more lady-like. Her stomach growling she got to her knees and slid off the bed. With careful steps she tiptoed around the mirror's vision, avoiding making eye contact with herself. She picked up her brush and slowly she ran it through her hair without the aid of the glass.

She had no books to read, nor any toys of any sort to play with. What was there for poor Mary to do, locked up here? She understood very clearly how this was a punishment. She just might die of boredom. Outside her window the rain had finally stopped, but the sun had sunk beyond the horizon, throwing the room into dark shadows. Mary turned on the lamp on her bedside table and scratched her head irritably. Dinner wouldn't be over for a whole hour!

She glanced slyly at her door. Was there a guard outside? Of course not, she reasoned. And if there wasn't a guard to keep her in, what was keeping her from leaving? Instantly the well-bred side of her brain clanged alarm bells, screeching that she was certainly in enough trouble and would she go off and do something foolish and get kicked out?

"I won't be," she argued, pulling on her shoes, "No one's around anyways. They all get to eat."

Well prepared and with a cleverly found watch in her pocket, Mary pushed her door open carefully, peering out in the lighted hallways. As expected, there was no one to be found in either direction. She came out slowly and carefully closed the door, grateful that the school was smart enough to oil the doors so they moved on their hinges without a sound. She took to the left as she already knew what the right held. She rather liked looking at the doors on either side of the walls, too.

Rabbits, foxes, owls, and even a bat once were carved cleverly on the wood. No animal was repeated until quite later, Mary couldn't identify some of the animals she saw. With the lamps in the corners, seeing was not a problem. Mary's shoes were also well worn down and they made no noise on the rugged stone floors. Later on she noticed that the doors stopped having animals carved on them. Now they had objects.

With curiosity she tried these doors and found that they were classrooms. The one with the carved books was a library, and the one with music notes was obviously a music room. One confused her, however. This door had an umbrella with a question mark for a handle engraved on it. She tested the door and with disappointment found that it was locked tight. She stood there in front of it, pondering on what it could be.

During these moments of pondering, she did not hear the footsteps coming from beyond until it was almost too late. Panicked, Mary threw herself behind a convenient vase, cursing herself for not checking the time. Holding a hand to her mouth to keep from breathing loudly, she peered out cautiously. Matron was making rounds.

She had to sit there squashed behind a vase and had to shrink a little smaller as Matron came closer and closer. She was locking the rooms, Mary noticed. Keys jangled in her hand and each room had a different key. The key ring must have been quite heavy. It made her thankful she didn't have such a burden for a job. However Matron was quite brisk in her rounds and very methodical. Soon she had walked down much farther down the hall.

Mary waited until she couldn't hear Matron's steps any longer before rising. This was enough exploration, she decided. She turned the way she came and headed that direction.

With the exception of the doors and Bert, Mary found the school hardly more awe inspiring than any other, save the mere size of it. She rather felt that either her parents had gotten deceived, or they really did mean to get rid of her. Either way, she felt hurt again and self pity started to move in. She would be left to herself here, with mean or silly girls.

Instantly she felt bad. Janet, who she had just dubbed as silly, was the only nice one she knew of now. She was a little odd, but at least she wasn't mean or even crude. It seemed that she tried her best here, and who was Mary to speak against that? She then changed her opinion. She and Janet were left here to fend for themselves. For a moment she wondered if the girl knew Bert. Then she hoped she didn't. Mary liked to discover things for herself that no one knew.

Suddenly a door was opened and Mary quickly ducked into a nearby doorway, thankful for the shadows. A woman was leaving a room that had a paint pallet and brush on it. If that was the art room, the lady certainly looked art like. She looked almost identical to a statue of a Greek goddess, and her dress had an apron over it that was spattered with paint blotches and bright colored oil smears. In her hand, there was the smallest of bags. It, too had undergone its own painting spree but it was done on purpose and the paint markings actually looked quite nice.

While Mary held her breath not six feet away, the lady turned towards a window to stare at the outside weather. Nightly fog had begun to arise, but it seemed to please the lady. She placed her bag on the ground and opened it. From the tiny bag, the girl watched as the woman pulled an entire umbrella out. She felt her jaw drop in shock, but she quickly closed it and kept close to the doorway. The umbrella, a plain black, was more than three times the size of the bag!

Mary wondered if it was hunger that made her see such things.

The painter woman seemed unaware of the awe she inspired, and after closing her bag she marched away towards the entrance, umbrella in hand. It was noticed that the handle had an delicate flamingo's head as a handle. Mary stared at her until she was out of eyesight before coming back out further into the hall. She pressed a hand to her forehead, feeling quite faint. First the mirror, then a chimney sweep boy, and now tiny bags that contained overlarge objects! It felt like too much and Mary was quite happy to get back to her own room. Thankfully no one had caught her as she slipped back inside, heading straight for her bed.

Not too long after as she lay there, trying not to think to hard on all the astonishing things she had discovered, footsteps of the other girls going to bed came from behind her door. A knock let her know that Janet had kept her promise of food. Eagerly she was accepted into Mary's room and with a small rant about how brave she thought Mary was for standing up to Matron, two rolls with a pat of butter were handed to her, having been lodged in the front pocket of her uniform.

"Thank you, Janet," Mary said honestly as the elder student found her way to the door. "Really, I appreciate it."

The girl beamed brightly, a glow cast to her freckled face.

"You're very welcome, Miss Poppins," she said.

"Please," Mary said with a small blush, "just call me Mary. I think I've heard enough of the 'Miss Poppins' for today."

The girl giggled but complied. In the end, Mary had asked her to stay and visit, offering a seat on her bed. They talked amiably, once Mary started paying attention to what Janet was actually saying. She was delighted to discover that Janet, although quite plain sometimes, was in fact fairly intelligent and spoke from experience of a few years beyond Mary herself. She learned that Janet was in fact two years her senior and had been in the school for a year already. Suddenly she was interesting and Mary asked a lot of questions, feeling quite younger and ill experienced but wanting to know more.

"So are all we're doing is the normal courses of any other school?" Mary asked intently. "Or is it really special, truly? I haven't seen anything different."

She purposely removed anything mentioning the strange events she had that afternoon. It would be safer just to see if everyone experienced scenes that she had seen first. Janet pulled up her knees on the bed where she placed her head thoughtfully. It was noticed she looked at Mary's mirror with a twinkle in her eye.

"Do you think this is a special school?" Janet asked innocently.

Mary's mouth twitched, threatening to tell this girl everything but… the thought of it all being a hoax stopped her. The blonde girl had taught her that not all that smiles is kind. She already knew that from her parents of course, but it took real effect to her now. So instead, her lips were pressed together in silence and she could only shrug. Janet grinned sympathetically, as if she could see what Mary was feeling.

"It has its own twist," Janet said cryptically. "I was really surprised my first year."

Mary opened her mouth, wanting to ask what she really thought, but instead all that came out was:

"How long are we in this school?"

"Until we graduate," Janet told her, slipping off the bed. "Which is always at least after three years. But what really determines it is whether all your teachers think you should graduate, or if you impress Mistress Hemmington enough."

Mary stared up at her, suddenly remorseful that her new friend might leave her very soon. The older girl gave her another warm smile but did not leave.

"I'm sure you'll like it well enough here," she said, "It always takes some getting used to. You'll like the special classes, though."

Mary put her head in her hands, skeptical.

"Maybe…" she allowed, not really believing it. "But will I be able to actually attend? I don't think I paid for extra courses…"

Janet laughed not unkindly.

"Oh no," she said with a grin, "it's mandatory."

Mary sat up straighter, taking her head from her palms. Mandatory special classes? It didn't make sense. What on earth was she supposed to learn?

"What about?" she probed but Janet shook her head.

"Can't tell," she said mysteriously. "You'll have to see for yourself tomorrow."

The older girl then opened the door as it was getting much too late for visitors. She winked at Mary then left, leaving Mary to sigh enviously and to wonder about her schedule for the next morning. This time, she would be good, she decided. Nothing would be gained being sent to Mistress Hemmington's office again, not even a visit from Bert, who would certainly not be doing that chimney for a very long time.

She also arose from the bed and began to methodically change into her night things. If the special classes were linked in any way to the strange things she had seen today…well, she wasn't sure how she would respond. She decided it best to leave it alone until the following morning, to take things as they would come. It wasn't what her mother would do or tell her, but it was good enough for Mary. She nodded to herself before climbing in between the sheets in her new bed. Comfortable, but a little too soft then what she was used to. Her head immediately sank into the pillow as well, the sides of the fluffy whiteness almost covering her face.

"Now, really," she grumbled, and with a few tosses and turns, and finally the relinquishing of the pillow onto the floor, Mary slept.

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**UPDATED. YES. WORKING ON MORE.**

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	5. Chapter 5

**That was a lovely break....NOW OVER. SORRY.**

**DISCLAIMER: I do not own Mary Poppins. Aha. **

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Part Five:

Somehow Mary was woken up without the help of anyone, servant or Janet-wise. At first she was confused as to where she was, but then the two days she had had suddenly flooded back in her mind and all the nerves that accompanied it soon followed. She got up quickly. Today was for lessons, now and there would probably be no mollycoddling for Mary if she didn't start learning how to act and where to go. Dressing carefully, it did not escape her attention that her drawers were now full with uniforms and her personal affects were all in the lower drawer when she looked for them.

She didn't bother questioning it; somehow she felt that not doing so was the very best when it came to her new school. Instead of waiting for Janet, Mary took the opportunity to leave herself and see if she could retrace her steps to the dining room of the previous evening. Janet would not be dining with her, which was her reasoning behind not waiting for her. It was needless for Mary to bother her; she couldn't depend on her for long.

The halls were empty and all was silent. The windows were still dark outside in the early hours and a fine, thick fog made it nearly impossible to see past the grand building's gates. Lights flickered uneasily as Mary passed them, faintly assured of her memory to remember the way. The uniform itched. In fact, it itched a lot. Going against all of her mother's imprinted lessons, Mary scratched her sides and around her stomach where the unfamiliar cloth rubbed the most. A mirthless giggle from behind her made her stop and wheel around.

"Awful to see one scratch in public," the person said, "one would think they have lice!"

It was the blonde girl. Standing there in the middle of the hall with a gaggle of other girls around her, she was by far the prettiest as well as the cruelest looking amongst them. The leader of a pack of joyless hounds, the other girls melted with each other well with not one standing out as much as the blonde girl in the middle. Her eyes were hard stones as they leered at her newest victim. She had not even bothered trying to be quieter. Her cronies did not smother their mean laughter.

Mary's own eyes narrowed and her chin went up in prideful defiance. For a moment, she thought she would speak but the blonde girl seemed finished for now. With a flip of her hair the group oozed away without another look back, though some pointed at Mary's hair and giggled amongst themselves and Mary finally noticed why— all their hair was down and flowing about their shoulders in thick curls. Not one of them had pulled their hair back and up.

"Why those—!" Mary bit back an angry rant bubbling up inside her.

Instead, she waited until she was sure the snobby group would not hear her before following her. She didn't really remember where to go.

The group evidently knew where to go, and Mary soon followed them at a safe distance behind, not yet willing to reveal her misunderstandings of the large place. She tried hard not to stomp, but the anger inside her kept boiling and her creased brow and clenched fists were the only signs of her hidden rage. It wasn't fair! There was no earthly reason that blonde girl would be so quick to make an enemy out of Mary, she knew nothing of her! Surely there had been no provocation. At a whim she went over her first day when all the troubles had happened but to no avail. As far as she knew, the blonde girl's hatred had come like lightening—unpredictable.

In some hopes Mary liked to believe that it was only the particular group of girls that were the blonde one's cronies, and that there would be other girls who thought nothing of her. She had to believe that, or so help her but that blonde girl would have a taste of Mary's sharp tongue if provoked too long! She would not stand to be bullied. She was not one of the frightened, timid creatures that flinched every time you talked to them…she was like her Father: bold and proud and distant. It was perhaps the only thing she shared with the man, she looked far too much like her elegant mother when it came to her looks.

With the unknowningly given aid from the group of girls Mary found her way to the dining room. She made sure to wait a minute or so before entering—least she looked like she needed help from anyone in how to get there. Inside, it was much as the other night with the one long table with the one long piece of lace covering it. But instead of the heavy laden dishes of dinner set on the table, there were only little bowls and small baskets of hot rolls in the center of every six girls.

She also noticed, with her heart sinking a little, that every spot was taken except for the old, creaky chair next to the blonde girl. At least the other girls on each side of her weren't all having their hair up.

"Sit down, Miss Poppins," Matron said crisply from the head of the table, "And then we may eat."

Mary remembered her 'yes ma'am' today, and warily she sat down gingerly in the old chair, being extra careful as to not invoke any more awful creaks like the one two days before. Though it did emit a few little squeaks of protest, it was not as bad as before. Mary relaxed.

"Thank you," said Matron, "Now, girls, bow your heads and we shall say prayers."

Everyone did so, and everyone had their eyes closed and their hands folded…except for Mary, whose eyes were fixedly open and watching the blonde girl out of the corner of her eye the entire time. Once prayers were said, Matron rung a little bell that was sitting beside her on the table and all at once, maids came with black pots filled with porridge or trays that held the pitchers of cream and sugar that could be poured on top.

Buzzing of conversation started as soon as the maids started ladling the porridge into the bowls, but Mary had no one to turn to chat with. It was rather lonely, almost as lonely as being home and having her parents talk in front of her while she ate and watched them feeling invisible. She was, however, grateful that the blonde girl had better things to do than to torment Mary. That, or because Matron kept an uncommonly sharp eye on Mary, no doubt wondering if she would cause any more mischief. Mary's returning stare was cold and stony.

Janet was no where to be found after breakfast and while the other girls swarmed out of the dining room Mary stood off to the side, feeling stupid. No one had given her a schedule, and no one bothered to tell her if she even had the same classes as everyone else. Not much liking the idea of being late but not wanting to be in the wrong room with everyone there to laugh at her, Mary scowled and started off down the hall after a few girls with their hair pinned up.

Although there had been a majority of girls that seemed to follow the pack that the blonde led and had their hair down, there still were a handful that did not seem to care whether their hair matched the others' or not. It comforted Mary and also gave her a slight chance of blending in as she followed them.

No one stopped her or asked her where she was going as she followed random girls, and Janet still did not appear to help her. Mary knew she should probably ask for help from Matron but she could not bear to swallow her pride to ask. The way Matron thought she was a disruption and a mischief maker still stung her too much to stoop down and ask for anything. In the end, she just followed the groups of girls that had their hair back. If she was wrong, who cared? She was new still anyways, and it wasn't as if she had any other friends to look silly in front of.

The gaggle of girls started to stream into a classroom that had books on the front design. Mary dutifully followed. Inside, it was the same as any other classroom with desks and chairs and rows of books in shelves lining the walls. A blackboard and a lemony looking old woman stood near the front. Again Mary didn't bother to ask for help but slid towards the back of the room and made herself comfortable in the desk nearest to the only window. No one talked in this class, but took their seats quickly and sat forward with their hands together. Mary quickly copied them and not too late after a chiming filled the room, the bell to start class.

The woman at the front clapped her hands together loudly and looked about the room with small eyes.

"Well, my girls," she crooned unexpectedly. "It seems we have another day to learn what we need to be successful in this world. But before we do that, my girls, I would like to ask if anyone could not make it. Is everyone here?"

She looked about casually. No one answered, again. The woman nodded and took up a bit of chalk and turned to the board behind her and began to write in long, elegant script. From the back Mary could tell from the way everyone else moved that this was not ordinary. Girls started to look back and forth between each other and then roaming eyes spotted Mary. A small buzz of talk started up once Mary was found by the other pairs of eyes. Mary ignored them with difficulty, staring hard at the board.

The teacher stepped away from the board to reveal what she wrote. Mary grimaced.

"Good morning, Miss Mary Poppins," the board declared, "Do you know what class you are in?"

The teacher faced the girls and found Mary with her small eyes as well though her face did not look displeased.

"Well, Miss Poppins?" she asked in her odd, crooning voice.

"I don't know, ma'am," Mary said quietly.

Giggles surrounded her, even seemed to come from behind her. Could she ever go anywhere without those obscene giggles?

"You don't know, Miss Poppins?" the teacher pressed, looking slightly taken aback. She looked about the room again. "My, my, that won't do at all. Would anyone like to help her?"

At first no one moved or spoke. Then one girl near the back, but from the other corner slowly raised a fist.

"Miss Black?" the teacher asked.

The girl stood up. She was tall, slender, and had blue-black hair. Her dark eyes were large and curious but her mouth was entirely stubborn and closed to the world.

"English for the Accomplished, Mistress." She almost chanted.

Promptly she sat back down. The school mistress nodded.

"Very good, Miss Black, thank you." She said. "Yes, this is English class, Miss Poppins. I assume you are aware that you are now enrolled in my class and shall be taking it throughout your years here."

Mary hid her confusion by nodding stiffly.

"Yes, Mistress," she said, in case the teacher was touchy about such things like Matron.

"Good, good… now, my girls, if you'll take out your books we'll be continuing Dr. Baldwin's theory on…"

The teacher went on about the theory while the girls opened their desks to take out the book mentioned. Mary followed suit and discovered that the desk was stuffed with everything she would be needing, papers, writing utensils, and the book. She was quick to pull it out and to pay swift attention to the teacher. Obviously you could pick your own classes...

"Do you want help with your next class?" someone asked her after the chimes sounded again.

Mary looked up. It was the Miss Black girl. Warily she looked her over but she could detect no hostile feelings from her. She also had her hair up.

"How do I know what my next even is?" Mary asked slowly.

The girl gave a small smile and hugged her book tight to her that she was holding.

"You just walk into the one you want," she said, "It's really hard in your first year 'cause you don't know what they have here, besides the main classes. They just sign you up where ever you go and that's your schedule."

Mary stared. She had thought about that but she didn't actually believe that was going to be the method. For this class she had assumed she just got lucky.

"That's odd," she said without thinking.

The girl gave her little smile again but remained silent. Mary got up and smoothed out her skirt while she pondered.

"Where should I go?" she asked then.

The girl shrugged.

"It doesn't matter really because we'll all have the same core classes," she said, "but it's the teacher you want to worry about. If you like, you can stick with me and be in my class. I have good teachers. Or you can just pick out your own, if you're adventurous."

Mary bit her lip, unable to see if that would be smart. She had already been tricked once; she would rather not be stuck with someone who was going to be sneaky and unkind to her again. But the girl's dark eyes were peaceful, and the fact that she was hugging a book titled _Rasselas_ somehow put Mary at her ease that this was not a girl who cared for fashions or what the blonde girl thought.

"If you do not mind my company," Mary ventured cautiously.

The girl shook her head.

"I don't," she said cheerfully. "Come, next I have Sciences, but Mistress Shirley is so clever and kind."

The Sciences class was much like the English one, save for the teacher who was not the 'kind' that Pappy was, but rather the 'kind' that meant fair and good to her students. Mary appreciated that, even though she was no good at Science, and even learned just a little. The girl with the blue-black hair made sure that Mary sat next to her and told her what she should and should not do or say in the classes.

"My name is Mary, too," she said during a History class where a befuddled, thinning little Mr. Jones tried to tell a girl that the capital of Ethiopia was not, indeed, Tyro. "But I just have people call me by my middle name. If you don't mind me speaking so frankly, but the name 'Mary' doesn't suit me, I think. I like my middle name, so you can just call me Rosamond."

Mary hid a smile behind her History text book. Rosamond smiled back encouragingly.

"It means 'Rose of the World'," she admitted almost embarrassedly. "So very vain, I know, but I can't help it. It's my one vanity."

"Everyone is entitled to one, I suppose," Mary allowed, not an inch bothered that her new companion was vain about her name. It was suitable to her, than just 'Mary'.

"How do you like the school?" Rosamond asked her.

At first, the question of what exactly the special classes were stood on the tip of Mary's tongue, but a moment later she was relaying everything that had happened to her between the blonde girl and her to Rosamond. She was a very good listener and didn't interrupt once, but made sympathetic faces at the right times. Mary didn't mention Bert, again. There seemed no point in letting her know. Rosamond wrinkled her nose once Mary had finished.

"Oh, you've made an enemy out of Belladonna James," she said. "No, she's very well known for being a frightful bully, everyone either follows her or gets tormented. She picks out at least one person she doesn't like every term."

"Did she ever bother you?" Mary asked, surprised at the sudden knowledge of who exactly the blonde girl was and knowing her role in the school.

Rosamond shook her head, smiling wryly.

"Belladonna knows better than to bother a third year," she said simply.

"Third year!" Mary gasped. "But you're so…"

"Young looking, I know. I always look younger than I actually am." Rosamond's dark eyes glimmered with amusement. "I don't really care about what Belladonna does, and she knows for a fact that I'm better than her in the special courses."

Again the special courses. Perhaps Rosamond would tell her what they were.

"Well, what are those classes about?" Mary asked, pretending to be casual but failing. "What do you do in them?"

Instead of a prompt answer she generally received from Rosamond the girl smiled mysteriously, much like Janet did.

"You shall get to see after this," she said cryptically. "We get a special class next. Everyone goes, too."

"Miss Black, can you _please_ tell Miss Nathaniel that Tyro is not even _in_ Ethiopia?" Mr. Jones asked unexpectedly from the front, nearly in tears.

That ended any more questions Mary had about the special classes. She would have to wait like everyone else for the next hour that would finally answer all the questions she had about what her new school was truly about.

* * *

**Okay! No more breaks for me!**


End file.
